3 Chapter. Alan

Two weeks later.

- Father...I'm getting married.

- Son, this is certainly welcome and welcome news to my mother and me. You've always shied away from talking about marriage, and now you're in such a hurry. Who is your chosen one... she is Ossetian, isn't she?

I exhaled...I'm already stressed about this marriage thing, and now I have to report to my dad like a kid that my fiancée is Russian.

- No, father. She's Russian.

- What?! Are you out of your mind?

- Father, you know how much I respect you. But please don't start, I'm not a boy for you to tell me off, just accept my choice, that's all.

- Who is she? - Father asked in a muffled voice. He realizes that if I've made up my mind, no one can talk me out of it.

- Borisov's daughter," there was a slight pause in the phone.

- Son... what's going on? Why do you want Borisov's daughter? You've never been interested in her. Tell it like it is.

- I say. Borisov is gravely ill, incurable. Offered me a contract, he gives me his assets and shares only if I take his daughter in marriage. After some deliberation, I agreed.

- Son, this is unexpected. Borisov is a good man, very sad news. But tell me, are you short of money? If so, I can give it to you, I don't spare anything for my sons.

- Dad, you know me, I don't have any financial problems. They'll just get the girl out of the way, and who'll take Borisov's place? Ponomarev? Or maybe Savin? And it wouldn't cost Abbasov anything to get the girl out of the way. You realize, father, that we do not have a vein, on which they drool, we have an artery, which they are eager to get, and if now these wolves know that Borisov is out of the game, it will start chaos. That's not why I've spent all these years building a holding company with my partners. I'm getting married, Father, end of story.

- Uh-huh... well, you can, after a while, get a divorce! Right?

- Dad, don't be ridiculous. It's Borisov, he's got it all worked out, so no divorce.

- Do as you wish, son, but don't forget, you're choosing a woman for the rest of your life. Do you even realize that?

Sighing heavily, I said:

- I realize.

- Hmmm... I didn't hear any confidence in his voice.

- Okay, Dad, I gotta go. Say hi to your mom.

- You'll arrive as you're calling relatives to the wedding and greet your mother in person.

After he finished talking to his father, he dialed Borisov.

- I agree.

- I knew you'd make the right decision.

- Don't tell me what to do! Where do you want me to go?!

- In a couple hours at my house.

I threw my phone when I was freaking out. I feel like a fucking prostitute! But when I remember that it's about my brainchild, which I breathed life into, everything else fades into the background.

Two hours later I was at Borisov's office with my lawyers. At the office door I ran into a nurse who was rolling out a tripod with a used drip. Walking into the room, I saw Borisov rolling up his sleeve. Realizing that things were not going well for him at all. This sobered me up a bit, and I tempered my ardor.

- Come on in, Alan.

- Yeah...those are my lawyers.

- I get it, my lawyers will be here in a minute, too. I have a favor to ask of you.

- Hmmm...really?" I started to boil again.

- Yes... once the contract is signed, it is immediately effective. You have the right to refuse me, but I hope you will. I'm going to leave the country after you're married. I don't want the children to see their parents become infirm. I want her to always remember me strong and think that I'm living abroad, not dead in a hospital bed.

- That's touching, but those words aren't for me, they're for your daughter. So you should tell her.

- I beg you, get the wedding done as soon as possible... I want to hand my girl to you from hand to hand, as they say.

I look at him with a frown. Pressing my lips together. His blond hair had grayed and thinned in a short time; he'd always been a big man, but not now.

- Okay...it's in my best interest, too, to play this wedding as early as possible.

His lawyer came, explained everything, I in turn checked all the documents on the holding company, and afterwards we signed the forced contract. Surprisingly, my hand didn't even shake when signing. The lawyers certified all the documents, collected and put them away in folders.

- Call her," I said, looking into Borisov's tired eyes as I handed my original signed contract to my lawyer.

- Who? Yulia? - He asked excitedly.

With unblinking eyes, I look at him and say:

- Her -- as far as I know, you have one daughter and her name is Yulia.

- Uh, you know, here's the thing.

- Don't tell me that all the information my people have carefully gathered is a fake.

- What? What information? What fake? What are you talking about? She just doesn't know everything... only that I'm sick, and that she's getting married, no.

- What? Borisov... you seem sick, but you're not an idiot, are you? Do you have any idea what you're doing? I'm not gonna mess with your daughter!

- And don't, I'm sure you'll make a worthy husband for my Julie, and she'll make a good wife for you.

- So...as much as I respect you, you turned on the caring daddy too late, so go ahead...call her out.

- I guess you're right..." he sighed, reached heavily for the phone on the table and picked it up.

- Tamara... invite Yulia to my office," he hung up the phone, looked at me and said: "Have a seat, Alan, your fiancée will be here now.

I'm trying to control myself. Not to just sell me my share... and he came up with a cunning ass plan! Whatever I offered him, he wouldn't take it. I have a feeling Borisov came up with this whole thing while he was still healthy! I may be wrong, but I'm quietly furious! This is what kind of father should be, not to put his own daughter! Vyhajivayutsya around the office as if it were my own, sticking my hands in the pockets of his pants. I want to smoke, but I can't smoke in front of a sick man. After all, he is my relative without five minutes... ugh... I almost spit on the floor. I turned my face to the door, waiting, and I don't like to wait.

- Alan...son...there's no need to be so nervous.....

- What?" I turned my head toward him. - What kind of son am I to you?! Vadim, stop it, or I won't see that you're older and sick.

Just as I finished, the door opened and a girl came in, a little taller than average, with a nice straight back and long neck, her skin very light compared to mine, though I'm not swarthy. Against her skin her eyes seemed too bright, like two sapphires framed by long lashes. Her lips were relaxed, not like in the photo, more plump, and her lower lip was slightly capriciously jutting out. Light blonde hair with a fade, braided into a tight braid that reached to the middle of her back. The figure under this garment was not visible, something too loose with long sleeves, more like a Russian shirt, slightly modernized, knee-length.

- Good afternoon," she greeted everyone courteously with her melodious voice.

I thought: "She's just a girl, but she's already participating in the games of grown men. Well, how she participates... circumstances have dragged her in.

- Did you call me, Father?

He walked up to her, looking at her sternly, eyeing her clothes without realizing what she was hiding underneath, looking like a teenager's body. Stopping at her skinny, bulging knees and slender ankles. She took a step back, looking at me oddly after I raised my dark gaze to her face.

- So...bride...we're getting married in a month. You're moving in with me tomorrow, I want full control. I'll be very upset if anything happens to my fiancée.

Her dazed eyes traveled from mine, to her father's, and back again.

- Who's getting married?

She thinks she misunderstood my words, hmmm...no, my dear bride, you got it right.

- Daughter... meet your future husband. You're going to marry him.

- Who...me? - she asked quietly.

- You, daughter.

She shifted her gaze from me to her father for another long moment, wondering if this was someone's dumb joke. How I wish it was, and I would gladly leave this house on my terms. But...

- What do you mean I'm moving in tomorrow? I can't... it's my birthday tomorrow!

Right, I looked at the file.

- Ah...right...then tonight, my fiancée will not be clubbing. You got it?

She just kept quiet and looked at me.

- Good girl...I can see we're going to be friends. Be ready by 7 p.m., I'll send a car for you. That's it, let's go," I said to my lawyers. Walking along the tiles, leaving Borisov's territory, I said to a senior member of my security team:

- Leave three of them here, and keep an eye on the girl. I don't like the quiet ones, as they say.